


Bitter Pill

by venticalooks



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, I need to write this damn thing first, Mentor/Protégé, Most definitely slow burn, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Sexy bits in the distant future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venticalooks/pseuds/venticalooks
Summary: Begins directly after the finale's post credit scene.Wanda needs to find her boys, and there's only one witch who can help her.
Relationships: Agatha Harkness/Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness, Wanda Maximoff/Vision (referenced)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 113





	1. Back to Westview

**Chapter 1: Back to Westview**

Wanda didn't want to admit it, but she was afraid. Her astral and corporeal form snapped back together with a gasp, the heaviness of her body and the nerves in her stomach making her nauseous for a brief moment. With a deep breath, she gathered her thoughts, trying to calm herself, but she was faced with the horrible truth: 

Her boys. Wanda had heard her boys. They were out there, somewhere tucked within realities. They needed her, needed her help. And she didn't know what to do. 

Wanda glaced at the Darkhold on the side table from where it had settled when she merged her astral and physical forms, biting her bottom lip. She hated the damn book, hated that she needed it. Hated that it often felt like it was fighting against her. The grimoire had seemingly infinite knowledge, pouring into her faster than she could read. She could remember the first time she opened up the damn thing in her cabin. The words had flowed through her mind like slick oil, every page turn felt like unleashing another torrent of information. Wanda could stand against the tide, absorbing what she could, but every moment in the presence of the open book felt  _ wrong _ . Reading in her astral form, once mastered, had helped somewhat. Wanda no longer felt like she was walking in quicksand, but rather wading on the edges of a lake with no discernable bottom, a siren's call echoing over the lapping of the waves. She could tell the Darkhold was more than it seemed, no tome like this could leave such an impression like it did. It was near sentient, had motives of its own, sharing what it wanted, rather than what Wanda was looking for. She grimaced at the thought. If she could, Wanda would have opened up a portal to the center of the Earth and toss it in, or just let it rot in Agatha's basement. Let it be forgotten and lost to time. But it had answers to too many questions. She had to keep it. Even if it wasn't always cooperative. Even if reading it felt like playing a game of strategy and she never knew the rules. Starting to pace through her cabin, Wanda frowned. She could hunker down and study the Darkhold until it spilled the secrets she wanted to know. But how long would that take? A day? A month? A decade? The sound of her boys' voices had come to her like snippets of chatter on an old radio, like she and Pietro used to play with in their youth. Wanda had tried to brute force her way to locating them, but the thread connecting her and her sons was too delicate. She needed a more nuanced approach. She needed help. And there was only one person she knew with the intimate knowledge of the Darkhold and magick required to be of assistance.

_ Agatha _ . The thought of her made Wanda's breath hitch in her throat. A swell of complex feelings swirled in her stomach. In moments of loneliness, between moments of grief, Wanda had missed Agnes. She missed her babbling gossip, the sing-song-y inflection in her voice, the way that she seemed to know exactly what Wanda needed. Agnes had been bright smiles, bad jokes, and silly innuendos. Agnes had been a friend, maybe her first real friend since her childhood in Sokovia, and had been such a comforting presence during their time in the Hex. But Agnes wasn't Agatha, was she? She was a facade, a character meant to get close to her, to get access when Wanda was vulnerable. Agatha was a betrayer. An infiltrator who pulled at the hanging threads of her world's seams when she wasn't looking. She had broken her trust and ripped apart her reality. Wanda's pocket reality may have been as fake as Agatha's Agnes persona, but the hurt had been all too real.

Wanda stopped her pacing, swallowing bitterly. Agatha may not be trustworthy, but she was the only one she trusted to find her sons. With a new determination in her step, Wanda made her way to the Darkhold, eyes glowing red as she telepathically grabbed the book and opened it before her. The oily feeling of the book's innate magick reaching out to her mind made her grimace, but she pressed on. If Wanda was going to be confronting the older witch, she had some research to do first. 

When Wanda rematerialized in Westview, she found herself looking down at an athlesiure-clad Agnes _ (Agatha! _ , she harshly reminded herself) doing a downward dog pose in her small backyard. Wanda looked away a moment, a bit embarrassed for her hasty decision to teleport to Agnes's new home (after her fake divorce from her fake husband, Ralph. Wanda had arranged the very real separation, and set Agnes-Agatha up with a modest two-bedroom bungalow in a different neighborhood, hoping to keep her isolated from the more major players of the sitcom reality). Agnes transitioned into a sun salutation, opening her eyes and instantly brightening up upon seeing Wanda. 

"Wanda! Well, I'll be, it's so good to see you, hon! How nice of you to pop by!" Agnes lowered her arms, opting to do some casual (and somehow wildly over-exaggerated) stretches instead of continuing her yoga pose. 

"" _ Pop' is definitely the right word to use,"  _ Wanda thought to herself with a wry smile. "It's great to see you, Agnes," she continued out loud. "It's been awhile." 

She nodded towards the house behind the older witch, now in a deep lunge, "Nice place you have there, neighbor. Would you, um, mind showing me around?"

Agnes smiled broadly, "Oh of course! Where  _ are _ my manners? Here, let me give you the tour!" She stood and wrapped an arm around Wanda's shoulders, leading her towards her house with a squeeze. Agnes leaned closer to her, with a warm smile and said softly, "I've missed you, girlfriend.”

Wanda’s face colored at those words as she felt something inside her crumple. The sincerity in Agnes's voice made her almost forget who was really opening the sliding back door for her. As she stepped through the threshold, Wanda wondered, not for the first time, if she was doing the right thing. 

Wanda had set up Agnes's living situation, but left the actual decorating to her. Looking around, Wanda was not surprised to see the very HomeGoods 'Live, Laugh, Love' aesthetic coming through strong. A novelty coffee mug with the phrase _Don't talk to me till my fifth cup of coffee_ sat in the kitchen sink with a nearby sign reading _I’m not having a glass of wine. I’m having 6. It’s called a tasting._ _It’s classy_. Her eyes scanned the various knickknacks and potted plants as she tuned back into the one-sided conversation Agnes was having. 

" -and now that I don't have to put up with Ralph's baseball paraphernalia laying around, I feel like I've finally made a space that really speaks to me." Wanda made a non-committal sound of acknowledgement, encouraging Agnes to continue, while she started sketching runes in the air behind her back. "What made me really fall in love with the place were the bay windows in the sitting room, they are such a treat!" 

The tour continued as such, Agnes continuing her monologue while Wanda smiled and nodded half-heartedly and placed runes in each room they visited. Agnes ended the tour in the master bedroom, “And here’s where all the magic happens,” She said with a wry smile and eyebrow waggle, turning back around to face her guest. “Wasn’t much  _ magic _ going on with Ralph, but, I mean, some men just don’t know how to do the job, am I right? Although hot stuff like you probably never ran into that particular problem, I’m sure!” She continued, seemingly oblivious to the slight blush and complete avoidance of eye contact from her former neighbor. “I bet you and Vision got up to all kinds of wild hijinks in the bedroom! He certainly seemed like a very  _ capable _ man, if you know what I mean.” Agnes’s suggestive smile instant softened into a look of concern at the small hitch in Wanda’s breath. She stepped closer to her younger friend, a small frown and a hint of embarrassment on her face. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I’m not being very tactful, am I,” Wanda seemed to fold a bit into herself as Agnes put a comforting hand on her arm, “Vision was a good man. I know you must miss him terribly. He was very lucky to have had you in his life…. I must admit I’m a bit jealous of--” Wanda pushed Agnes back, interrupting her before she could finish her sentence and detaching the idle hand that had come to gently play with a lock of autumn red hair. With a swallow, Wanda shook her head. She had a mission, she couldn’t let herself get distracted. 

“I have to talk to Agatha now, Agnes,” she said thickly. Agnes’s expression of surprise and something else Wanda couldn’t (or wouldn’t) identify turned into confusion.

“Wha-”

Wanda closed her eyes and with a wave of her hand, her magick swirled around the older woman before her, binding her hands behind her back and briefly filling her blue eyes with red. Wanda stepped forward with a frown, parting the red mist as it settled. She had kept the clothes the same, her hair still plaited into a neat braid. But there was no mistaking the difference in the woman before her. She was now looking into the narrowed eyes of one Agatha Harkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pairing and Agatha Harkness in general are living rent free in my head, and I can't see to get them out, so I decided to try my hand at a fic! Updates will be on the slower side, but that just means I can hopefully incorporate some feedback from y'all. Lemme know what you think!


	2. My Neighbor Agatha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their lovely comments for the first chapter! I can't wait to hear what y'all think about this one :)
> 
> Quick news: I've got a beta now, so you'll all be spared from the worst of my excessive use of commas! I think I'm going to be aiming for Wednesday posts, assuming I can keep up the pace. Fingers crossed! Posting a bit early, because I was impatient, haha

**Chapter 2: My Neighbor Agatha**

The dark witch tested her restraints with a coarse laugh.

“Y’know, Wanda, normally you take a girl out to dinner first before tying her up in her bedroom,” she smirked mischievously. Wanda’s frown deepened, somewhat unnerved by the woman’s response, watching as Agatha lazily relaxed her posture.

“I thought you’d be...more upset,” Wanda started, cautiously, starting to slowly pace around the bound witch before her. Those wicked eyes tracking her back and forth filled her with more anxiety than she cared to admit.

“With you, dear?” Agatha leaned towards her with a conspiratorial look, “Never.” 

Wanda couldn’t help but feel a shiver go up her spine. There was something unreadable in Agatha’s expression, her demeanor a smokescreen for what was really going on in her head. She seemed too casual, not nearly as pissed off as Wanda had anticipated. “ _ Not like you don’t deserve it _ ,” a small voice in her head whispered. Wanda clenched her jaw. No, Agatha had earned her punishment, if you could even call it that. Wanda had made sure her life would be comfortable. Sure, the woman had been trapped in her own mind, but she was stuck in a role she had designed for herself. It was a prison of her own making, really. 

A deep chuckle broke Wanda out of her reverie. The older witch was watching her pace with an uncanny smile. Looking back into those clever blue eyes felt like looking toward the horizon where a tempestuous storm brewed. It was peaceful now, but there was no mistaking that disaster would soon follow. 

“Do I make you nervous, tiger?” Agatha asked, her tone uncharacteristically flat. Something about it drove Wanda wild.  _ She _ was supposed to be the one with questions, the one to be looked upon with fear. The expression on Agatha’s face was so unlike when she last saw the witch, when she tucked her away into the Agnes prison. Her face had been so full of trepidation, barely restrained fury, desperation. And now? Agatha looked pleased. Despite anger heating up within her, Wanda felt compelled to be frank.

“Yes,” She answered simply, and nodded towards the red runes shimmering on the walls. Agatha rolled her eyes, with a scoff. 

“Geez Louise, Wanda! You’re never going to let me live that one down, are ya? Just gotta rub it in my face.” With a huff, the dark witch wiggled in her restraints. “This seems like a bit of overkill, don’t you?” Her annoyed expression then turned into something mischievous and she winked at her captor. “Unless you really  _ are _ here for a quickie with your favorite four hundred year old witch?” Agatha’s laugh rang in Wanda’s ears as she jerked back a step, face flushed with embarrassment and outrage. The dark witch smirked wickedly before settling back into a more neutral, if huffy, demeanor. “While I can’t say I’m not disappointed, I’m not kidding about the magic handcuffs. You know I can’t cast, and it’s obvious you want to talk about something so the least you could do is let me make us some tea.” Wanda felt almost petulant under Agatha’s unimpressed gaze. But the older woman was right. With a muttered Sokovian swear, she walked out the bedroom and waved her hand, releasing the witch from the spell. She didn’t have to turn around to know that Agatha was smiling. 

Wanda was stiffly settled on the living room couch when Agatha had returned with a tray with a teapot, two cups, little packets of Splenda, and a small pitcher of milk. Setting it down on the coffee table, she placed one of the cups in front of Wanda and started to serve the tea.

“Agnes has a thing about sugar, apparently,” The dark haired witch began, “She was trying to cut it out of her diet, but of course she has a hidden stash of cookies in the kitchen that she gets into when The Bachelor is on.” Agatha placed the teapot back onto the tray, gave an exaggerated mouthed “Yikes,” at the Splenda packets and then poured some milk into her cup, settling into an arm chair across from the couch. The banality of it all was driving Wanda up a wall.

“What are you doing?” She snapped with sudden impatience. Agatha paused, looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, before returning to her tea, swirling her spoon lazily. The sheer amount of unimpressed energy coming from the witch made Wanda somewhat embarrassed, much to her annoyance.

“I was just making some polite conversation over tea, dear, I don’t understand why you’re --” Wanda cut in before Agatha could continue.

“Cut the bullshit, Agatha, you know what I mean,” The red-head huffed and ran a slender hand through her fly-aways, “Why aren’t you trying to tear up the place with fire and brimstone? Cuss me out? Pull my hair or punch me or whatever?” She ignored the sly smile the other witch gave her at the mention of hair-pulling and continued, “You should be pissed. What’s with the whole...” she gestured with exacerbation toward the tea tray, “neighborly tea time pleasantries?” 

“Well,” Agatha paused and took a sip of tea before placing her cup down on the saucer, ignoring the near fuming look Wanda was giving her. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about things while locked up in my mental prison, and don’t get me wrong,” she leveled a suddenly dark look at the younger witch that made her shift uncomfortably in her seat, “I  _ loathe _ you. And it’s not just the whole stripping me of my agency and forcing me to watch my body act out a parody of the Stepford wives thing. You are, without a doubt, dangerous. If left unchecked, I have no doubt that you’ll be the end of everything as we know it, sweetcheeks. You have near infinite power and you don’t know how to use it. You never earned a  _ cent _ of it. You’re selfish, cruel, and delude yourself into thinking that you’re a good person, that you would never hurt the innocent intentionally. I think our time in the sitcom from Hell has proved otherwise.” Wanda felt her throat tighten from the older witch’s stinging words, watching Agatha lean back into her chair and tossing a leg over her knee, her whole demeanor instantly shifting, now smiling and bouncing her foot, “But honestly, you are just  _ so _ much fun to be around, Wanda, I mean it. It’s just  _ delicious _ pressing your buttons. And,” she raised a hand before her former neighbor could interrupt, “I admit that my methods for waking you up from your little daydream may have been, mmm, a bit harsh.”

“A bit harsh?!” Wanda spat out, incredulous, hands gripping the edge of her seat. “You locked my boys in your basement dungeon, made me relive my most traumatic experiences, then nearly strangled my sons to death so you could bait me into giving you my magick, and in the process, killing me and my family!” It wasn’t until the milk pitcher shattered on the ground did Wanda realize that red mist had levitated the contents of the tea tray and various other knickknacks in the living room before slamming them back down again. She recoiled in shocked embarrassment. She had been practicing, studying for months in her cabin, and this is how much self control she actually had? How was she supposed to find her boys like this? Agatha’s chiding voice snapped her back to the conversation at hand, looking up to see the witch wagging her finger at her as if she was a school girl.

“Tsk tsk, Wanda, temper. There’ll be no more tantrums in my home, now, y’hear?” The Scarlet Witch, flushed with annoyance, rolled her eyes and made a non-committal sound, prompting Agatha to continue, “Again, it wasn’t the best look for me, maybe I could have handled the situation differently, who knows!” She gave a lazy shrug. “But the fact of the matter is I did those things because I was right in my assessment of you. You’re a ticking time bomb, Wanda, you can’t deny that. Defusing you might not have worked, but that doesn’t mean you won’t need guidance on how to direct all that power to the right place and time. So! Here we are, back at the point where you left me to rot within my own mind in this god-forsaken little shithole of a town. Not much for a girl to do but some soul-searching, amirite?” 

The dark-haired witch clasped her hands in front of her, feigning serenity. “I decided to reframe this whole imprisoned mind palace thing as a vacation of sorts! I mean, I’ve been flying around the world for the past three hundred and something odd years, a girl’s gotta kick her feet up at some point, y’know?” Wanda’s eyes narrowed in confusion, not quite following where Agatha was going with this. Upon seeing her reaction, the older witch leaned forward in her chair and said in a gentle tone, almost too much like Agnes, “What I mean to say is, I’ve forgiven you, Wanda.” 

Wanda blinked in confusion. Forgiveness? The concept of it was almost alien to her. She hadn’t come here with any expectations for forgiveness, especially not for her. The illusion was broken when Agatha let out a sharp laugh. “That is, provided that you’re here to tell me something juicy, cause if not, you can just skedaddle your way back to whatever hole you’ve been living in for the past few months, and leave me and Agnes alone with our complete DVD collection of  _ Sex and the City _ .”

Here it was then. Time to give the pitch.

“Agatha, I heard my sons, I-” Wanda swallowed tightly, “They need help. And I don’t know how to reach them.” Agatha frowned slightly, and touched her chin in thought.

“Heard them? Like in a dream, or… elaborate for me, dear.” Wanda shook her head.

“No no, I was… I was reading the Darkhold while astral projecting. I was reading a section about telepathy and it, it was like I tuned into a radio frequency, just for a moment. They were calling for me, Agatha. I  _ have _ to get to my boys.” She finished, voice thick with emotion. The witch before her nodded slowly, leaning back into her chair. 

“Astral projection, huh? You’ve been practicing. Good girl,” Agatha said with a small smile. Wanda shuddered at the compliment, frowning, unable to wrap her mind around the feeling it caused. “Like I suspected, you’re here for help then. All right-y. What’s in it for me?” The red-headed witch furrowed her brows in confusion. 

“What do you mean, I-”

“I already told you, I’ve been having a grand ol’ time with neighbor Agnes here. I help you, then what? Get tucked back away in my little dollhouse until the next time you need me? I rather watch  _ the Great British Baking Show _ in peace without the dramatic interruptions, ya dig?” 

At Wanda’s incredulous expression, Agatha rolled her eyes and continued slowly, “Sweetie, I’m  _ hundreds _ of years old. I have the patience to hang around until the spell ends when you inevitably trigger the heat-death of our planet. So like I said. What’s. In it. For me.” She leveled her with an unreadable look (was that disappointment?) before she continued. “Or are you back to your old habits and plan to use me without my consent?” Wanda sucked in a breath through her teeth, those words landing in her stomach like a gut punch. Internally, Wanda felt like her mind was being tossed around by her various thoughts and arguments. She knew what Agatha was after: the witch wanted her freedom back. _ “But she doesn’t deserve it yet.” “Even if she’s evil, doesn’t everyone deserve free will?” “Agatha can’t be trusted.” “Is she really evil though? Her motives seem more complex than that.” “How do I know that she won’t just run off on me?” _ Wanda shook her mind clear. She couldn’t trust the dark witch, but she could make a deal. Agatha just wouldn’t know the fine print before she signed. 

“Alright, once I have my sons again, I promise to give you back your freedom. But!” Wanda stood up, her face set in a firm glare, “You cannot interfere in my life ever again. And until we find my boys, I can’t just have you running about with your magick. I won’t let you out of your house on just a promise that you won’t bail on me. Your magick will be bound to mine until we're done.” She watched as the older witch frowned, obviously less pleased with that last stipulation. But whatever debate warred behind those blue eyes came to a fast conclusion.

“Fine," Agatha said through clenched teeth, "We'll need a magical contract then.” She raised an eyebrow at the younger witch. “I trust that you’ve been a good little student and know the spell?” Wanda nodded, moving around the coffee table to a more open space of the now trashed living room. Once the dark-haired woman was standing directly in front of her, Wanda called on her magick, performing the hand movements like she had practiced. She ignored the soft chuckle and (fond?) smile on the other witch’s face, instead closing her eyes and bringing her hands together. Sweeping her hands in front of her, they cast red energy out, etching a circle of power, glowing like hot embers, beneath their feet. When she opened her eyes, now filled with magick, Agatha was no longer looking at Wanda Maximoff, but rather, the Scarlet Witch. Agatha’s breath hitched, her eyes widening at the transformation, but soon recovered and cleared her throat.

“Under Hecate’s all seeing eye, I pledge my service and magick to the Scarlet Witch, until her quest is complete.” Red mist began to swirl around the two, making the air feel thick. Agatha, stretching out her hand, breathed it in like an old friend. Her eyes closed and she hummed, a serene expression on her face.

“Under Hecate’s all hearing ear, I pledge the release from her bonds to the witch Agatha Harkness once her service is done.” Wanda recited, her voice low but powerful. With a flick of her wrist, a dagger of red crackling crystal appeared in her left hand. With little decorum, she sliced both hers and Agatha's palm, ignoring the faint hiss from the other woman. The room and world around them seemed to slip away, becoming more and more obscured by the magick of their spell. Even with the runes in place, Agatha’s eyes glowed a faint purple, her innate magick being called to the surface with every caress of red mist on her skin. Clasping their bloodied hands together, they continued in unison,

“As daughters of the moon, we are bound by pledge and by blood. Our oath is unbreaking or Hecate’s wrath smite me. So mote it be.”

Magick pulsed through them, red fog flecked with purple sparks, rippling out through the room. Wanda blinked slowly, almost drunkenly, watching Agatha laugh but not hearing the sound, nothing but the hum of the magick settling over them filling her ears. The younger witch couldn’t help but smile. She had never felt another person’s magick as intimately before. Agatha's magic smelled of thunderstorms and cardamom, mixing with her own familiar florals. It was intoxicating. Soon, the mist cleared, the ambient noise of the suburbs returned, and the Scarlet Witch was replaced by Wanda once more. A jackal's grin was plastered on Agatha's face.

"If that's the last taste of magick I get for awhile, then, phew," she whistled lowly, "at least it was fucking satisfying. I never doubted that Wanda Maximoff would know how to please a gal." 

Wanda ripped her still clasped hand from the older witch, ears burning red as Agatha let out a laugh. "Come on now, tiger! I need to pack some clothes! We're gonna have lots of girly bonding time now that we're on a  _ quest _ together." Wanda shifted nervously at the thought. How long was this going to take? The idea of possible  _ months _ of Agatha’s snide looks and burning comments made her mouth dry and reinforced the decision she had come to earlier.

"About that…" The younger witch moved with great speed, placing a glowing hand on Agatha's temple. "I'm sorry about this." A look of surprise transformed into a glare of rage as the dark hair woman realized what was happening.

"Don't you dare-!" But before she could finish her sentence, a glazed, slack look came over her, red magick sweeping across her face. A moment later, a wide-eyed Agnes looked down at the mess of a living room around her. 

"Well, shoot! I guess we had more fun than I realized!" She looked back up at Wanda and smiled with slight confusion. "I'm sorry, hon, I must have drifted off for a second there. Remind me what we were talking about?" With a small smile, Wanda patted Agnes's arm.

"That's alright, Agnes. We were just planning our little trip to my family's cabin. You were about to pack your suitcase," She lied softly, trying to hide the shame she felt, watching as Agnes's eyes brightened.

"Oh, of course! How could I forget!" She did a little shimmy of excitement, "Ooh, this is going to be so much fun! This is just what I needed, a little spontaneity!" Agnes inclined her head towards her former neighbor and put up a hand next to her mouth in a fake stage whisper, "God knows there was none of that in the bedroom with Ralph! Ha!" Wanda smiled weakly, and gave Agnes a little encouraging push towards the bedroom. 

"You go on and pack, Agnes, I'll take care of the clean up." Her heart felt a small stab at the older woman's genuinely touched expression.

"Are you sure, sweetheart? I wouldn't be a very good hostess if I made you clean up my own house." Agnes said as she stepped towards the younger woman. Wanda simply shook her head.

"No, no, don't mind me, neighbor, it's my mess. The least I could do is clean it up." Wanda felt her breath catch in her throat as she watched Agnes smile so sweetly and gave her arm an appreciative squeeze.

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing," she said softly. The dark haired woman then stepped back and resumed her chipper demeanor. "Ok, if you insist! I won't be but two shakes of a lamb's tail," Agnes continued as she walked into her bedroom, raising her voice as if Wanda couldn't hear her perfectly well from the room down, "Oh and don't worry, Senor Scratchy is an excellent traveler! Ralph and I once took him on a cross country road trip and he only peed on us twice!" Wanda's eyes widen at the mention of the rabbit. She had completely forgotten about the witch's familiar in her hasty planning. “Oh Wanda, this is going to be the perfect girls' trip, I can tell! It'll be just peachy!" 

Wanda grimaced internally, a knot of conflicting feelings forming in her stomach. As she idly waved her hand to magick the living room back into order, the Sokovian witch sighed at the thought of the long road ahead. "Agatha is going to kill me."


End file.
